


Sometimes I think you like getting punched

by Masamiya



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Modern AU, Skinny!Steve, Sometimes I Think You Like Getting Punched, but Bucky loves him anyway, punk!bucky, steve is an angry cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3493838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masamiya/pseuds/Masamiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a spurt-of-the-moment decision, to put himself on display in the busiest street of Brooklyn, near the bridge, with weapons near him and his explicit agreement to endure everything people would put him through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm french and so, so sorry if there is any mistake.

 

 

Steve was tired.

 

Tired of these bullies always picking on him for now reason, just because they deemed him as easy prey- because he was skinny, because he was small. Just because of his appearance.

He was tired, but more than that, he was angry.

 

It was a spurt-of-the-moment decision, to put himself on display in the busiest street of Brooklyn, near the bridge, with weapons near him and his explicit agreement to endure everything people would put him through.

 

He wanted to make them face what they were- violent, bloodthirsty people, ready to hurt at the first chance.

 

Yes, he had been angry, and now he was burning contained rage, his clothes ripped, under the calculating gaze of the bullies he had wanted to fight. They didn’t understand that he had done that so they could see themselves for what they were- they were unashamed and would never learn. And now he had made himself an even easier prey and some of them were talking about what they could do to him like they were talking about the easier way to paint a wall, detached and cruel.

 

Steve wasn’t worried about himself, but he felt disgusted. At least, no one had touched the gun he had put on display next to him- he had some superficial wounds, and some of them had smacked him on the face, but it was still better than what he usually had to endure when some pricks wanted to pick on him. His nose hadn’t always been that crooked, after all, and it sure wasn’t the worst he had had to endure.

Here, the violence was restrained- maybe people were put-off by the fact that he was willing, and wouldn’t defend himself. Still, they had spit on him, insulted him, when they could have ignored him- or feed him the sandwiches he had put next to the weapons.

He even had put some flowers in here, hoping that someone would fancy putting some in his hair, or pin a bouquet on his shirt. A woman had picked a few roses to tear him up with the thorns. She had looked perfectly sweet, in her flowery dress.

 

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to regret his decision. If the human heart was that depraved, he wanted to know. Turning a blind eye wasn’t his thing, and even if there was nothing to do, he preferred the truth. The hard, bloody truth.

It was only straightening his will to fight them. By hurting him today, they were giving him weapons, reasons to keep doing what was right.

 

So here he was, straight, facing them with a cold face and a righteous rage, taller than ever even with his clothes ripped apart and blood dripping down his whole body, sure about what he wanted to fight for.

That’s when he appeared.

 

Steve wasn’t a coward, far from it; he had faced the strongest thugs, but the guy was giving him goose bumps. He was calm, standing very still, just on the periphery; his long hair masking his eyes- but not the disgusted turn of his pierced lips. He looked like the resolute kind of guy who could take the gun and shoot Steve in the head without batting an eye.

 

In front of Steve, some guys were still debating if it was or not legal to beat him up with a bat if it was specified that Steve allowed them to do everything they wanted to him and hadn’t noticed the bulky guy in skinny black jeans and rangers. It was like Steve was the only one noticing the punk lingering around.

 

He didn’t think it was a good thing. It even scared him a little.

 

His heart beating violently, he watched, helpless- and what could he do? He had promised himself that he wouldn’t intervene, whatever people would throw at him- the guy slowly coming up his way; every assured, silent step of the man reminding him of his ma waiting for him home and how this could very well be a fucking bad idea, after all.

The way the man was carrying himself screamed that he was dangerous, every move slow and calculated as he approached. Steve had played martyr and now he was going to be slaughtered by a shadow.

He had been so, so wrong to think that he would only have to face the usual bullies, too coward to do anything to someone their size. This guy was clearly something else and he was so, so screwed.

 

He closed his eyes, waiting for whatever the stranger was going to do to him, when he heard a very deep, very calm voice:

 

“Touch him and he’s gonna be the last thing your fingers will lay on.”

Surprised, he looked up. This time he was able to see two icy eyes, staring down the guy who had threatened to beat him with a bat earlier.

 

The fucking punk apparently didn’t want to wear his skin as a trophy, and Steve certainly wasn’t the only one noticing him anymore if the weary looks the thugs were throwing to the shadowy figure were anything to go by.

 

Warmth filled his belly as the young guys decided to give up and go away, followed by a deadly glare. He wasn’t alone anymore.

 

All day, the punk stayed by his side, silent, protecting him with the sheer force of his presence.

 

Steve may have fell for him this day (or the next, or sometime along the next months, but who was counting?)

 

 


	2. Punk as Fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still french! Still no Beta! I'm so sorry about the mistakes T__T

 

 

It was amazing, how such a mall body could countain that kind of energy. Bucky was impressed by Steve, by his determination; but he was kinda sad, too.

Yes, it was admirable that Steve was always trying to do the right thing, even if it meant trouble. He was never backing down, would do anything to try and make things right.  
Catcalling a girl in the street was the easiest way to summon a very angry Steve; being rude in general would warranty a long, extensive and righteous sermon about politeness- usually ending with Steve getting punched. Again.

One would think that it would have discouraged Steve after the first few times, and at first Bucky had been amused by his antics, patching him up fondly, backing him up when he was there to help. That wasn't the case at all.

And then, Bucky started to see that Steve wasn't just defending principles. He was constantly tense, waiting for a blow, for someone to be rude; always eyeing people suspiciously, like he half-expected them to mock him; and was generally untrusting, nervous and lonely.  
That was bad.

Steve was leading his whole life like a fight, his shoulders squared, his colorblind eyes jumping from one figure to another, his head in a constant motion to better hear the sounds around him- the poor guy was almost deaf. Bucky didn't care. He had decided a long time ago that he wasn't the kind of punk to have a dog, because he was too much like a dog himself- and now he had found a very angry cat, he was unable to leave him, surprising himself by following him around.  
He wanted to curl around Steve and lick his wounds until the end of his life.

Steve would never allow that. Steve wasn't big on demonstrations, always suspicious and tense when Bucky was trying to cuddle with him. But that was OK, because Bucky was patient, and Steve allowed him to put his arm around his shoulders, and it was almost a hug already.

 

There were only a few people that his friend seemed to trust and be relaxed around- his mom, Bucky, and all the old ladies of the neighborhood. It was astounding to see Steve becoming suddenly so nice around the grandmas, offering with his serious frown to carry their bags, do their groceries. He even saw Steve give a half-smile to one of them, a few days ago, when she offered him a cookie.

Steve's half-smiles, never reaching his sad eyes, a bit hesitant around his lips, were treated by Bucky like the rare treasure they were. He felt like a gold-digger these days, leaving jokes here and there like bread crumbles for Steve's smile to find, hoping for a full smile one day.

That's how they spent their days- Bucky following Steve around, trying to make him laugh and put him out of harm's way. It wasn't uneventful.

 

But not today. Today Bucky had planned everything and had braught Steve in the fancy streets of Brooklyn, where no one would openly do something rude or provoke them, under the pretext to buy ice cream (the best ice cream, Steve, trust me).

Sure, people were throwing worried glances Bucky's way, but no one did anything and they had ice cream. Steve's frown had disappear a few streets away, and Bucky was still trying to make him smile by telling him about the ice cream.

 

"I swear, Steve, there's like a hundred flavors."

 

"You know I'll still have a chocolate one."

 

Steve had boring taste. He was lucky Bucky was here to help him out.

 

"You won't know if there's one you like better than chocolate if you don't try every flavor. They have _cactus-flavored ice-cream_ in there!"

 

Steve considered what had been said for a few steps before answering.

 

"I'll have a chocolate ice cream, but I'll try yours."

 

 "Then I can't have the peanut-butter one", he considered. Steve gave him a sorry smile- the lopsided one, always going with a timid look from under his long eyelashes. 

“I wanted to try something more exotic, anyway”, he added hurriedly because his friend should never apologize for his allergies.

 

He hoped that Steve wasn’t lactose-intolerant before pushing the shop’s door, letting the blond enter before him. Bucky hadn’t been here since he was very young, but the place hadn’t changed much. More important, it seemed that the owner was still the same: an old granny. It was partially the reason why he had chosen that place, knowing how comfortable Steve was around older people.

 

She was smiling at Steve already, probably used to see patrons being astonished in front of the gigantic choice her shop offered. Bucky was proud of his decision, seeing Steve lingering in front of the flavors even if he’d said that he would take chocolate ice cream.

 

He was a bit impressed himself. According to a sign on the wall, it was possible to have five different flavors in one ice cream. The resulting dessert must be enormous.

 

Because Steve had very classical taste, he ordered chocolate and vanilla; and because Bucky had to debauch him, he ordered kiwi, pistachio, cactus and cucumber ice creams.

He insisted on paying, and the old lady gave him a death glare as he counted small change in the palm of his hand. He knew he had enough to pay, but he wasn’t missing the fact that she was weary. Of course. Bucky was no bright, blond Steve Rogers. He let it slide.

Today was supposed to be perfect, almost like a date and he was used to people not trusting him, anyway. It was his look- and it was a reaction to be expected in this part of town. Nothing personal.

 

He gave her the money and let her count it again patiently- Steve tensing up beside him, maybe affronted on his behalf, but not making a scene, thank God.

 

Bucky squeezed the blond’s arm, mumbling “come on” and leading him to one of the tables disposed against the windows. Steve’s smile was going to return with the first lick, that much was sure: the old lady may be rude as Hell, but her merchandise was addictive.

 

“So… I don’t know which one is the Kiwi flavored. They’re all kinda green”, he said once they were sitting.

The comment brought back Steve’s smile, fond and amused. He was already leaning above the table with his mouth opened to taste Bucky’s ice cream, when the granny interrupted them.

 

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask you to eat your ice cream elsewhere”, she enounced with a flat voice.

Bucky winced as Steve straightened up, his indignant look telling him that their afternoon wasn’t going to be as quiet as expected.

 

“And why that?” Steve asked, even if they both know the answer already. At least, the granny seemed a bit embarrassed.

 

“You have to understand, I don’t want you to make the usual customers go away.”

 

Bucky sighed and put his forehead against the cool table as Steve began to defend his honor, jumping off his seat and ranting about how they were allowed to stay here as long as they were customers, too.

 

The date was ruined, but at least he had learned something about Steve. There were very few people Steve was comfortable around: his ma, Bucky, old ladies…

But nobody was safe if Bucky’s honor was menaced.

 

They left the shop proudly, and Bucky growled: “Take that, granny!”

 

If Steve at took his defense, then maybe he could still consider this a date. (He put his arm around the bony shoulders, and Steve let him do it. Maybe a date.)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanna talk about skinny!Steve? I'm waiting for you. I need to talk about him. It's becoming a problem.
> 
> http://redandbigbad.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> You liked it? Come fangirl over skinny!steve on tumblr! 
> 
> http://redandbigbad.tumblr.com


End file.
